


a loving feeling

by platonics



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Literal Sleeping Together, Painting, Power Dynamics, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Sunsets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 20:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21433972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonics/pseuds/platonics
Summary: “It’s not me you have to worry about disappointing, silly. It’s Kami-sama.”“Of course,” she agreed sheepishly. “I guess I got a little caught up in the moment.”
Relationships: Shirogane Tsumugi/Yonaga Angie
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	a loving feeling

**Author's Note:**

> other implied/mentioned ships (all onesided lmao) that are there for like 0.2 seconds: tenmiko (tenko), himikiyo (himiko), shiromami (tsumugi)

“Kami-sama appreciates your devotion, Tsumugi-chan,” Angie cooed, leaning closer to her. No sense of personal space, that girl. She just kept moving closer, until their noses almost bumped into each other. Tsumugi was nearly going cross-eyed trying to watch her approach. “Yep yep, you’re Angie’s most loyal friend, and that’s why Kami-sama says you should be vice president of the student council! You might be plain, but he can see how valuable you really are.”

Just as Tsumugi was beginning to wonder if she should wrap an arm around her or something, any way to make this less awkward without having to actually push Angie away, she drew back on her own, still beaming. There was a smudge of bright pink paint on her cheek, and a bit of blue in her hair. She either didn’t notice or didn’t care, however, twirling a dry paintbrush between her fingers. 

Sunset was rapidly approaching, painting the sky in dark oranges and pinks. It was as beautiful as it was artificial. In reality, it had been a miserable, cloudy day, according to the weather report. This vivid sunset would barely be visible at all. Oh well. Something didn’t have to be real in order for it to be worth enjoying — that was what her whole career was based on, wasn’t it? Angie seemed to be captivated by the colors, flopping down on her back in the grass. She stared up towards the top of the dome, still fiddling with her paintbrush as her lips moved soundlessly. Talking to her god, probably.

Tsumugi didn’t know what to make of being dubbed vice president. Her being the most loyal student council member was accurate, of course, but she hadn’t expected Angie to think so. Nor did she plan such a prominent role for herself. The student council wouldn’t matter at all soon enough, but even so, she needed to lurk in the shadows as much as possible. Mentally, she began cataloguing her fellow members, wondering if she slipped up somewhere.

Kiibo...loyal enough on the surface. There was nothing to make him seem suspicious. But just not being suspicious wasn’t enough to be considered the best, and even then, he wasn’t as reliable as the others thought. Tsumugi had the benefit of knowing about his inner voice. If this storyline dragged on too long and the audience got bored, he could defect from the council in a heartbeat.

Gokuhara...the problems with him were obvious enough. He was just too gullible. Too easily swayed. The others could probably win him back over without much trouble at all if they so desired. 

Chabashira...was it even worth debating? Anyone with functioning eyes could see that her loyalty was only to Yumeno. She was never a true devotee in the first place.

And that, of course, left only Yumeno herself, the most obvious choice for Angie’s second in command. She was the first to be converted, had no major wildcard traits, had already proven her willingness to carry out Angie’s instructions time and time again. She was the perfect, lazy little puppet, but Tsumugi saw where her eyes wandered. 

It was subtle, but if Angie noticed it too, that would explain things. Even if Yumeno didn’t have any intentions of betraying her, feelings for someone outside the student council could be a problem. It was a liability, plain and simple.

Tsumugi, or rather, the person she was pretending to be, had no other loyalties. She was devoted to Angie alone, and for that, she’d been rewarded. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, getting to bask in her radiant presence.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly, clasping her hands together in excitement that was only partially feigned. “I won’t disappoint you, Angie-san. I promise.”

Angie giggled, reaching over and patting her head like she was a dog. Tsumugi let it happen. Anything to have Angie’s hands on her.

“It’s not me you have to worry about disappointing, silly. It’s Kami-sama.”

“Of course,” she agreed sheepishly. “I guess I got a little caught up in the moment.”

* * *

The orange followed her into her dorm room in the form of paint. The bucket sitting on the floor, and paint dripping down the wall. Angie was painting the sun. Whether it was the beginnings of a mural or just an impulsive, one-off creation, Tsumugi wasn’t sure. She didn’t have any particular desire to ask either. She just sat cross-legged on her bed, watching the bland, boring wall get smeared with yellows and oranges — the precise shades of Angie’s aura, if she had to guess.

“What made you first fall in love with art?” She didn’t know what made her ask the question. Maybe she was trying to provoke an interesting conversation for the audience. Maybe she was trying to gain more of Angie’s trust. The smell of paint hung thickly in the air, filling the closed space of her room.

“Ummm....” Angie dragged out the word for ages, thoughtfully tapping her chin with her paintbrush. An orange smear now, just below her lip.

“Angie doesn’t know what you mean,” she said eventually, turning to face Tsumugi fully and cocking her head to the side. “Sure, Angie likes making art, but it’s all thanks to Kami-sama. He wanted to do it, and decided to use Angie as his vessel. What a mysterious miracle, huh?”

She sounded so cheerful, turning back to the wall to paint a few more haphazard rays radiating from the sun. Tsumugi tried to swallow past the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. 

“Yeah...Um, what do you like about it though?”

“Lots of stuff,” Angie hummed evasively, staring at the wall more intently than she had any reason to. “It’s all so divine.”

“Right.” Tsumugi chuckled, guilt pooling in her stomach, polluting her blood. It didn’t even sound like Angie was lying, exactly. She did love art, because she was written that way. But when pressed on it, her scripted reasons were shallow. Two dimensional. Did she feel the lack, the emptiness, or was that Tsumugi’s burden alone, as the only real person here?

Danganronpa made everyone’s fantasies come true. It was the best and most successful modern entertainment. There was nothing wrong with Danganronpa. Redirect, compare. Make the critics sound overdramatic and ridiculous. These were all things in the employee manual. Danganronpa wasn’t just a job. It was a lifestyle.

Her lifestyle. These were all things she believed back when she met a girl in the grimy alley behind the art museum. They were things she believed when the girl commented, offhand, that she wished angels existed. It would be nice to have a higher power helping her out. 

_“I can be your angel,” Tsumugi said, flashing her Team Danganronpa badge, trying to be seductive because this stranger was pretty and she was still stinging from Amami’s rejection earlier._

_ “Prove it,” the girl said, and she did._

_ (They made out in the stairwell near her shoebox-sized office, and watched the sunset from the window there, sitting on the sill. Tsumugi’s nails were painted pink at the moment, and the stranger’s were orange. When they laced them together, they almost made a sunset of their own._

_“We could get coffee sometime,” Tsumugi said in a moment of weakness. _

_“Okay, Kami-sama,” she replied sarcastically. “Should a god really be asking out one of her mortal subjects?”_

_“Ah, so, is that a no then?” Tsumugi asked, adjusting her glasses. She’d give her the spot either way. One good deed a day and all that._

_“Huh? I never said that.” Her name was Yonaga Angie, Tsumugi learned a few minutes later, testing the taste of it on her tongue. Secretly, she thought Yonaga might just be a deity herself.)_

The nighttime announcement chimed. Monodam’s takeover was rather charming, if she did say so herself. Cute. Harmless, unlike all the friends she’d made for herself. Living dolls twisted this way and that, however she chose. Stable, healthy girls didn’t fall in love with their dolls though, did they?

“Hey, Angie-san, do you want to spend the night?”

* * *

Angie was a cuddler, it turned out. She clung to Tsumugi like a koala, winding their limbs together and making it nearly impossible to sleep. Her entire awareness was taken up by the warm press of their bodies against each other.

Instead, she stared at the wall of her darkened room, trying to make out the lines of the sun. It was difficult, of course, between the lack of light and lack of glasses, but she found it eventually, or at least pretended to. The sun snuffed out and hidden — what an apt metaphor, she would think two days later, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the hidden room and watching Shinguuji finish setting up the crime scene. Not even the mastermind fully controlled who died in the end.

How gauche, she would think another day after that, crossing the painting out in bright red like the angel wings on Angie’s portrait. If anyone was the sun, it was herself.

She thought it would satisfy her to see Yumeno crying on the floor, knowing her theory had been right and knowing she was hurting too, but it didn’t. 

For now though, she just laid there with Angie in her bed, holding her close. She kissed the top of her head, inhaling the tropical scent of her shampoo and the slight industrial tang of paint. This footage would be deleted. The Ultimate Cosplayer wasn’t suited to a romance arc. Besides, if it never reached the nation’s TV screens, maybe that made it real, in some small way. 

“I’ll protect you,” she murmured into her hair, closing her eyes. Tsumugi wished that wasn’t a lie.


End file.
